Acid Rain
by BuzzRuth
Summary: Set between season's 6 and 7, Willow is recovering from her abuse of dark magic. A tutors help is mis-interpretted, causing the Wiccan to unleash a powerful maelstrom of magic, on it's way to Sunnydale and the slayer...
1. Chapter 1

Acid Rain

Chapter 1

Willow stared out of the window at the rain. It was coming down in sheets, trickling down the huge windows of Giles's England home. It had started that morning when she had woken up to the arrival of the man himself and a tea-tray laden with the statutory cup of coffee and bowl of cereal. The coffee had been drunk gladly, the need to wake up at the fore of her mind. The need to eat had long been pushed to the back, and the cornflakes had been left to drown in the milk, their form decomposing before her eyes.

"Willow- you are not concentrating"

The young witch tore her eyes from the countryside view, and turned to face Axel, the formal English male witch who had been appointed by Giles to help train her mind after he had spirited her away for recovery, once the reality of what she had tried to do back home had hit her fully. Axel was a patient man. A former monk, he was often to be found in silence, the loose oriental clothing he wore flowing around him like the petals of a deeply interesting fauna. When he did speak, he didn't waste words by using too many, but refused to abbreviate the ones he chose. He was tiny, barely up to Willows shoulder, but he was not a man to be crossed. His powers of mind were greater than anyone Giles had ever met apparently. Plus, he was a kick-ass martial arts expert.

Willow sighed and looked back at the pencil in front of her on the padded floor of the training room obviously originally meant for slayers. The equipment which had once cluttered the area had been moved to the perimeter of the room when she arrived, to allow her to be re-trained in the ways of witches, a punishment for the abuse she'd wielded this past year. A full re-train, starting from the basics.

Closing her eyes, she let her breath out slowly, clearing her mind, and then focused on the writing implement in front of her. It rose quickly from the floor, causing a warning from Axel to go slowly, to allow the mind to get used to magic again. Giles had left her tee-total for a week, and she was only now being allowed to use her powers again.

Which really wasn't fair, she thought. Willow knew she was better than most the witches in the coven she was working with- probably better than all of them in fact. Giles was just scared, that was all. Like a child. She'd seen the fear in his eyes when she'd gone over to the other side. Oh, he'd presented a strong outer façade- a stiff upper lip, as the English said- but she'd known. She'd known all along how he was trembling. And now this- this was just to humiliate her. To get some cheep vengeance for daring to be more powerful than he could handle. She knew it. She…

Uttered a startled gasp as the pencil spun madly, flicking end over point before levelling out on the horizontal and speeding forward like a bullet from a gun, to stick in the portrait of three Edwardian women directly across form her, driving straight between the eyes of the tallest brunette, and staying there, a demonic horn sullying the perfect picture.

Heaving a sigh, Axel dragged himself up from the lotus position he had been sat in, and walked over to the portrait, deliberately leisurely. He pulled it out from the picture with a loud pop, healing the broken skin of the woman with nothing more than the smoothing of a hand over her forehead. He turned and fixed Willow with a steely glare, head on one side, waiting.

"Sorry," she stuttered finally, shrugging pathetically.

Axel rolled his eyes skyward, a silent prayer playing around his lips, before he walked back to the Wiccan and sat down in front of her, drawing his knees up under his chin and looking straight into her eyes.

"What is it Willow?" He asked gently, searching her face.

She lowered her eyes and allowed her thoughts to go where they wanted, back to the one woman she loved, and let it all burst forth.

In fits and starts she once again spilled out Tara's tale. Axel had heard it, many times, and still listened, as she sobbed over their first meeting, the wordless communication that had taken place in her first year of collage with the nervously powerful Wiccan, the spells they'd indulged in, the nights they'd spent in each others arms, discovering her sexuality through her, with her. The total emptiness she felt when she'd left, the joy on their reunion, the anger as the woman's life had been cruelly snatched away by a stray bullet. Then she moved on to the subsequent snap of her mind, the blissfulness of giving over to anger totally, of taking it out on those she needed most, but hadn't been able to see- her friends. And the touching catalyst for her eventual repent- a simple memory of a young girl and a yellow crayon from her oldest friend, Xander.

When she had ground to a halt, Axel took the young woman's chin in his hand, tipping her face upwards so that she was forced to look at and listen to him. Willow saw the sympathy in his eyes, dancing with the flames of resolve and annoyance, putting up it's fight, but ultimately being worn down.

"Willow," he murmured. "I know what you have gone through. I lost someone dear to me not that long ago too, and it also resulted in my coming here."

Willow blinked. Axel had never spoken about his life. He'd never used so many words in a sentence either. He was comfortingly like Oz in that way. He shattered the persona he had created now, by confiding in her.

"Five years ago now, back when I was living in a peaceful little hamlet in Germany, my partner and I were engaged in battle with a powerful magi. He was the creation of pure evil, and the terror he had wreaked on our home had been bitter, fuelled by hatred and envy. The only way to stop it was to offer him a duel he could not resist- Julian and I, in mortal combat.

"The fight was long and hard, and we suffered greatly, but we won. Eventually, the last strike was issued upon him, and the demon was torn from this world back into the Hell dimension. But his last parting shot was one simple word, directed at me. "_Vernichtung_". Death."

Willow saw tears start to well up in her tutor's eyes, the memory obviously causing him pain. She motioned that he should stop if he wanted, but he simply smiled and shook his head.

"You need to hear this as much as I need to say it. Julian jumped in front of the death blow, shielding me, but sacrificing his own life instead. I held him in my arms as the light went from his eyes. I also called upon the spirits to give him back, and I too was rejected. But this is where we differ, Willow. I accepted it. I moved on."

Willow stared for a moment, waiting for more, but was granted with just the man's customary silence. That was it? That was what she'd needed to hear?

"You're telling me," she said, fighting to keep her anger down, "that I should just… forget?"

"No," the small man interrupted. "Never forget her, Willow, never. She will provide you strength when you think you have none. Never forget- just let her go. For her soul's sake as well as your own. It's what Tara would want."

"Don't you dare speak her name!" Willow yelled, all restraints on her fury snapping, burning up in the power of the release, and she stood suddenly. "Don't you try to second guess what she would want! You never knew her- how dare you?"

She jerked her head from his hands, her pupils starting to grow, and her face distorted by resentment. Axel cried out as his hands were grabbed and bent backwards, too far back. A storm was building up outside, the thunder rumbling with her feelings. Willow could see the fear in the former monks eyes, and she fed on it- it excited her in ways she'd forgotten, touching some primal urge within.

"They never cared either. No time for Willow. No, all that mattered was Buffy. Perfect bloody Buffy, the slayer savour of Sunnydale. She never gave a damn about me- _I hate her_!"

The thunder outside exploded as Willow received a sharp slap across the face. The shock and sting of pain pulled her back to herself, and she fell to her knees sobbing wildly. Axel stared down at her passively, rubbing the palm of his hand. His focus was soon dragged to the window, as a maelstrom built up outside, magical energy rippling around it. A demonic whisper echoed around them.

_Buffy. Sunnydale. Slayer._

"We need to inform Rupert of what your temper had created right away," Axel stated, turning to sweep from the room.

She debated following, but didn't.Willow instead crawled to the window, clutching her stomach and cheek. She forced herself upright, watching as the magic storm fled from the grounds, on it's way to seek vengeance for her.

"Buffy," she whispered. "What have I done?"


	2. Chapter 2

Firstly- the disclaimer I missed last time-

I do not own the Buffy characters and the setting used in this fic- they are the creation of the genious which is Joss Whedon. I do however own the story plot, and characters like Axel and other creatureswhich appear from time to time.

Thanks to all who've read and commented. Hope you'll keep with me until the end and enjoy!

Acid Rain

Chapter 2

"Hey, man. Don't worry. It's just a slight hole."

Clem shuffled nervously in his seat at 'Willie's Place' as he realised he'd just said something rather stupid. The look he was been given by the vampire across from him gave him this idea- maybe it was the maniacal glare in the centre of the pupil, or just possibly the fact that he was fighting to remain in human face, and not demon. Clem was sure that he was safe around vampires, even if said creature of the night did want to feed -to make up for a burn hole in his leather coat. Pretty sure. Quietly confident.

To be honest, Clem had no clue.

"Just a hole," Spike repeated calmly. "Oh yes. Well, that's ok the… do you know how long I've had this sodding coat?"

Clem could feel his loose skin blown back by his friends fury. He held his arms up in front of his face as if to ward off the impending attack, and was pretty surprised when he lowered them five minutes later to see Spike had settled back into the plush bench, and lit a cigarette. He was poking his little finger through the hole now, and smiling wryly.

"Why did I let you convince me to come out in the day time?" He asked. "I burn- I'm incredibly photosensitive. Even with a coat over my back, I tend to burst into flames."

Clem shrugged. Spike had been moping about most of the summer, ever since he'd come back from wherever it was he'd gone off to. It was strange to watch him from an observer's point of view. He kept alternately rubbing his head and staring blankly, and then balling a fist into his chest, just above his heart, as if he had major heartburn- or something new growing there. And what's more, he was off his food. Obviously he didn't eat people anymore- something which had always made Clem feel slightly sickly- but he wasn't getting through as many sachets of blood.

Is it possible for vampire's to develop an eating disorder?

Clem drained his own drink, noting that Spike had hardly touched the Double O Negative before him, and paused half way through asking if he wanted another. He turned to look at the clientele at the bar- one member of the clientele in particular- and then back at Spike, who rolled his eyes and drawled "Just go and talk to her you pathetic lump of roast pork."

"You'll be ok?" Clem queried, glancing from the object of his affections to his friend, tugging his ear worriedly. He wanted to – oh God, did he want to- but if Spike was in a worse mood than usual…

His dilemma was answered when the vampire in question leaned over and gave him a shove square in the middle of his chest, causing him to do a decidedly ungraceful shuffle off his stool.

"Fair enough," he replied, sticking out his chest, and strolling off.

Spike shook his head as Clem advanced on the unsuspecting young demon. She was in here pretty often- a young black woman, with huge red wings reaching far above her head and trailing to the floor. He wasn't sure that Clem was going to present an attraction for her, but it would be funny to watch.

He needed a laugh, even if it was just to take his mind off things. The newly acquired soul felt like it was burning him from the inside. He kept having flash backs to past events- killings, tortures, sadistic moments from a time gone by. There were periods when these flashbacks hit him when Spike just wanted to curl up and either die or let himself go completely. Some times, the temptation to give himself over to madness was too strong, and the vampire had to drown himself in alcohol just to overcome them. And then there was the voice, telling him that he could be so much more, telling him that the chip didn't matter, he could kill again, soon…

That's when Spike got scared. Really scared.

He fingered the glass in front of him, idly speculating on how it would feel to kill again. If he was honest with himself, it wasn't all that appealing. But he wasn't allowed to be honest- he was a creature of the night for God's sake, designed to kill and to enjoy it.

"Bleeding slayer," he muttered, downing the blood. "If I'd never gotten so bloody involved with that stupid bint, then I could be living it up with Dru. Not having these fluffy feelings."

He shook his head warily. Some days, it was all too much, and he wished something would come. Just to show her.

"So, an Angel of Death, huh? What does that entail?"

Clem was rapidly wishing that he could get out of this conversation. Just because someones pretty doesn't make them nice.

"Well," the girl was saying. "I basically hang about waiting for people to die. I'm destined to signal the appearance of the grim reaper. When I'm here- someone's going to bite the dust."

"Death's calling card, huh?" Clem muttered, laughing pathetically when the Angel of Death nodded seriously. "How did you get stuck with a gig like that?"

"Sold my soul."

Now Clem was seriously worried. If you choose to be a demon you must have a screw loose.

"Well, my friends is probably… I mean, it's been nice talking…"

How on Earth do you disengage conversation without making it sound like a personal affront to someone's job?

You have a vampire stroll through the door, leaving it open and causing an uproar, that's how.

"Hey- I don't want my customers fried, lame brain," Willie called over the bar. "Shut the door."

"No need," the vampire laughed, raising both his arms in a gesture of excitement. "Look- the cloud cover out there is so thick that we can walk around _without_ the sun block."

Clem raised his eyebrow, wondering why all the vampires in the joint were suddenly crowding to the door, feeling the new arrivals skin, expressions of glee and cries of "Now she'll pay!" erupting from their throats, as they suicidally pushed outside. Then he realised that not one of them had burst into flame, despite the clock behind him proclaiming it to be only five 'o' clock on a Summer's evening, and the sun should still be up.

He turned to Spike, the look upon his face a mixture of confusion and fear, still evident despite the rolls of skin. The look on his vampire friend's face was exactly the opposite.

He was laughing.

"Now she'll pay," he echoed. "Now she'll pay…"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Buffy Summers, the one and only slayer, had faced many horrors in her career. There were vampires, big snake demons, robots, a goddess- even her own boyfriend had turned evil on her. Hell- she'd died twice in the line of duty.

But nothing compared to this. The terror was too much, and the stress levels were through the roof.

"Do I get the very berrytastic scents, or the metallic glitter ones?"

Buffy Summers, the legal guardian, was helping buy school supplies.

"I can't decide!" Dawn stressed, holding the two packets of gel pens, one in either hand, and looking pleadingly at her sister. For someone who started life as a ball of magical energy tracked by someone who wanted to kill her, she certainly worried about the littlest things.

"Does it really matter?" Buffy sighed, looking from her watch to the basket of stationary, which included a ring binder with a picture of a moose and 'chocolate' written above it, various biros, a set of snoopy pencils, a hole punch, and a garish pink pencil case bearing the legend 'I laugh because I don't understand'. The money (or lack there of) was burning a hole in her back pocket.

Dawn was giving Buffy a look which suggested that it was completely important- the role of social outcast beckoned should she not have these pens for underlining in pretty colours.

The slayer rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. It was that long since she'd been to high school that she was forgetting the need to fit in, rather stand up and be counted. Not that she'd fitted in at Sunndydale High- her calling had made that rather complicated. Well, that and nearly staking the most popular girl in school…

"I think I'll go for… glittery," Dawn decided finally. "I mean, Rachel had scented last year, and everybody has them, so I might as well be different."

"You're such a trend setter," Buffy drawled sarcastically, checking the list her sister had made. "Spiral bound notepad in shape of an animal. Do they even make those? And precisely how will you file your notes on such an odd shape?"

"That's for doodling. I have a lined paper pad for the boring stuff."

Buffy hiked an eyebrow, and replied "I'm sure you meant to say the stuff that will get you through exams. We are not buying something you don't need."

Oh God- she was beginning to turn into her mother. She shuddered at the idea of loosing all her fashion sense and starting to wear long brown skirts and sensible shoes. Not her- and long skirts are no good for slayage anyway.

A brief hissy-fit later, and Buffy had dragged Dawn to the checkout to pay, trying to heal the gaping wound left by the denial of animal shaped paper by buying them both chocolate. The sugar kick was defiantly needed- shopping with a teenager was something she had forgotten the hassle of, and silently she begged her mothers forgiveness for her own teen years while Dawn handed over her hard earned money to the cashier.

They exited the shop and wandered around the mall, playing idle games of 'if I wasn't bankrupt I'd buy…' in which Dawn chose a fantastic outfit from one of the designer stores, which was actually not a clever thing to wear when riding the motorbike she fancied along with them, while Buffy settled for a slightly more realistic holiday to the Caribbean with three movie stars employed to massage her feet and feed her grapes.

It was with a slight twinge of regret that Buffy noted "It's five 'o' clock. Better get home and have some food."

"Can we eat out?" begged Dawn, trying for the puppy dog eyes.

"Sure. Go get a refund on those pens and the binder and we might be able to afford to share a happy meal," she retorted, putting an arm around her sister's shoulders and turning her towards the escalators.

"It's gotten dark early," Dawn said, as they stepped out of the mall's revolving door system.

Buffy frowned. The sunset today wasn't until at least 8:30, if not later. Summer days did not generally end at five past five. And the cloud cover above them was highly unusual. Thick black clouds which writhed around one another like snakes in a barrel. They were blocking out any of the sun which may have been trying to get to them, hence the darkness.

The queesy feeling started in the pit of Buffy's stomach, gradually spreading until she was greatly uneasy.

"Race you home!" Dawn yelled, shattering her reverie by tagging her arm and then running off giggling, the bag of school supplies banging the backs of her legs.

"Dawn…" Buffy called out as she ran after her sister, who was rapidly turning a corner in front of her. Buffy could never remember little Dawny running so fast before. "I really don't think this is a good idea! It's dark and darkness brings…"

"VAMPIRES!"

Her sister's scream made Buffy run all the more speedily, and she too skidded around the corner just as two young vampires, both wearing jackets from the now burnt down Sunnydale High basketball team, were laughing at her distress, having herded her back into the alleyways walls.

"God," one was professing, "I love this weather!"

"Oh, I don't know," the Slayer quipped, staking him in the back and turning to his companion. "I prefer something where I can get a suntan. But you people don't generally have that problem do you?"

The vampire growled at her, swinging a left hook at her face, which she ducked easily, before replying by taking his ankles out from under him. Before he could rise, she had sat herself across his chest, and was plunging the stake towards his unbeating heart. She didn't hit it though, as he managed to block her arm, rolling over so that Buffy found herself pinned down, the stake falling from her grip and clattering across the alley.

"Slayer- my favourite," the vampire rasped, licking his lips and leaning over her. His lips were a mere fraction of an inchfrom her neck when he exploded into dust.

Looking up from her prone position, Buffy saw Dawn standing above her, a new pencil clutched in a shaking hand, the tip broken and the design scuffed from the impact.

"Ok," Buffy smiled. "So maybe Snoopy pencils are a must have."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

"You're not in trouble, willow," Giles said, as he paced the library restlessly in front of her. "I do think that you have been bloody stupid in over reacting to a simple request, a piece of advice even. And to let yourself get so worked up that unleashing it provoked something like this… well, that was just damned irresponsible."

Willow dipped her head, looking at her feet and trying to stop herself breaking out into tears of shame. She tried to shrink into the over stuffed armchair in which she was sat, only to be rapped across the shoulders by Axel, and made to sit up straight.

Giles took a deep breath and started to talk to the former monk, distracting him from his business of making sure willow was facing the music.

Willow herself tuned the men out.

Her mentor had taken her straight to Giles after giving her a few minutes to calm down by herself. She had been given a glass of water, which she still held, rolling the final drops around the bottom of the glass, trying to calm the deeply hidden fear she had of being told off, a remainder of her school days, when she had been nothing more that plain, reliable Willow, who wouldn't go near the goose, never mind say "Boo" to it.

She had sat through a lecture which she had heard many times that summer about control and respect for magic. It was repeated that she had to learn to separate her emotions from her spells if she wanted to cast successfully, and how she had to start small and return to basics because something dreadful would happen should she attempt something big and find herself unable to handle it. Something like the storm she had sent to Sunnydale.

She knew the repercussions of her outburst. Stormy days generally made it darker, and a cloud of that thickness would turn day to night, upsetting the natural order of things- birds would roost without knowing when to awake, the weather would be unpredictable even after it cleared, anything powered or effect in any way by the sun would be rendered useless. And on a worse note, the creatures of the night would have uninterrupted playtime.

_But that's what you wanted._

"Never," Willow whispered, too quiet for either man to hear her.

_You hate Buffy for what she's done to you though. _

The feelings were still there. Buffy had survived where Tara had died from a shot intended for her. It was important that Buffy lived for them to all prevail, but her true love…

Willow shook the thoughts of anger from her head. Buffy had saved her countless times, and Tara wouldn't want her to feel this way about a mutual friend. Axel was right. It would take her a long time to get over the feelings, her healing was just beginning, but she knew enough to admit that someday she had to let go, had to grow into being the old Willow. The Willow who could be counted on, who was always there, who would help when she was needed.

"What do you propose we do now?" Giles was asking, causing Axel to look up at his friend, frowning, and shaking his head slowly.

"Since we don't actually know the spell which she cast, it will take a considerable amount of time for either of us to find a counter spell. Weeks, possibly months."

The Willow within, who was fighting to the surface with a solution.

"Erm… excuse me?" she asked, timid now. "I think I know what needs to be done, if you'll trust me with this one final bit of big magic."

The phone rang on, and Giles rolled his eyes heavenwards. What was the point of having a phone if you were never in to answer it? Bloody Americans…

"Hi this is Buffy and Dawn. We're not currently home, so do your thang…"

Again Giles rolled his eyes. The concept of communication had gone right out of the window amongst teenagers. Honestly- in his day… well, he himself would probably have not even recorded a message, but that was besides the point.

"Ah Buffy…"

He left a message for his slayer detailing how Willow had had a slight accident, and how they were attempting a spell for her to correct it. He used more big words than that, and more than a few expletives, directing his anger and disappointment into the phone while warning Buffy that things would be rough for the next day or so. And that was putting it nicely.

Replacing the phone, he turned sharply on his heels, and nodded his head in Willow's direction.

"Let us start."


End file.
